Centurion

Cato realised that he had been silent for a while, and that Julia was watching him, sidelong.

'Sometimes I wish I had been born a man,' she said quietly. 'So many experiences are denied to women. So many opportunities. But since the revolt broke out, I'm not so sure. I can't think how many broken bodies I've had to deal with in the hospital. It's a brutal business being a soldier.'

'True enough,' Cato agreed.'But it's only part of the job. We don't live to kill.'

'If you had only seen what happened here the day the revolt broke out.' Julia shuddered and closed her eyes tightly for a moment. 'The killing began and didn't stop. Soldiers killed soldiers, then women and children. Butchery, that's what it was. I've never seen anything so barbaric.'

'Perhaps.' Cato rubbed his cheek. 'The thing is, that barbarian is there in all of us. It just takes the right kind of provocation, or opportunity, before the barbarian emerges.'

She looked at him closely. 'You really think so?'

'I know it.'

'And you think you have it in you to act the barbarian?'

'It's not an act. Not for me. Not for any man. Not even for you, Julia. Given the right circumstances.'

She stared at him for a moment before easing herself away from the battlements.'It's been nice to talk to someone about something other than their injuries. But I must let you rest. I thank you for your kindness. I shouldn't impose on you any further.'

Her tone was firm, and Cato did not feel confident enough to press the issue. Besides, he was too tired to think clearly and dared not risk saying anything foolish to this woman he keenly wanted to know better.

'We can talk again another night,' he suggested.

'That would be nice. I'd like that.'

They both stared across the agora to where the rebels were putting the finishing touches to their battering ram and its housing.

'Will they take the citadel?' Julia asked softly.

'I can't say,' Cato replied wearily.

'Can't say? Or won't say?'

'I wouldn't lie to you about our chances, Julia. I just don't know. It depends on so many factors.'

She turned to him and pressed her hand to her chest. 'Forget the details.Tell me from your heart. Do you feel we can live through this?'

Cato stared into her eyes and nodded slowly. 'We'll survive. I give you my word. I will let nothing happen to you.'

She looked back at him and nodded. 'Thank you for being honest with me.'

Cato smiled at her. Julia turned and descended into the tower. Now that she had gone Cato was aware of the coolness of the night and he shivered. Perhaps they really would talk again another night, he mused. He hoped so. But as he took a last look across the agora at the enemy clustered about the battering ram he knew that the morrow would bring a fresh assault on these walls and only a handful of tired Roman soldiers and Greek mercenaries stood between Prince Artaxes' bloodthirsty rebels and the terrified civilians sheltering inside the citadel.

08 Centurion

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The defenders had been at their posts on the walls of the citadel since first light, intently watching the approach to the gate and waiting for the rebels to begin their attack. Stocks of arrows, javelins and sling shot had been placed at regular intervals along the battlements and heavy blocks of stone had been piled on the rampart above the gates. The smell of heated oil filled the air as smoke billowed lazily from one of the large ovens close to the barracks of the Greek mercenaries.

Macro and Cato, together with the commander of the royal bodyguard, a wiry veteran named Demetrius, and Prince Balthus, stood on the battlements above the gate and stared towards the rebel soldiers forming up around the ram housing.

'It didn't take them long to repair the damage,' said Balthus.

Demetrius took a sharp breath. 'We did what we could in the short time available to us, my Prince.'

'So you say. Just a shame that it has won only one day, while it cost you over thirty men.'

Demetrius pressed his lips together in a thin line to bite off an intemperate response.Then he managed to mutter, 'A shame, as you say, my lord.'

'Well, what's done is done,' Macro intervened. 'They're coming and we'll have to make sure we send 'em packing.

It's time we joined our men. Good luck.' He turned to Cato and clasped arms, and then did the same with the others. 'Stick it to 'em!'

Macro made for the staircase leading down to the courtyard behind the gate. His legionaries were waiting for him, in close formation a short distance from the studded timbers. If the rebels succeeded in breaching the gates, the task of keeping them out would fall to the best soldiers in the citadel. Behind the legionaries were small parties of men with thick mats and staffs capped with iron hooks, ready to fight any fires caused by incendiary missiles. Up on the wall, Prince Balthus and his followers were positioned to the left of the gate while the Greek mercenaries were to the right. Cato and the pick of his men had been entrusted with guarding the towers on either side of the gate and the battlements that stretched between them. The rest of the auxiliaries were stationed along the remainder of the citadel's walls under the command of Centurion Parmenion.

Cato clasped arms with Balthus and Demetrius before they turned away and joined their men. He was still tired and his wounded arm felt stiff and sore as he flexed it and then stretched his shoulders to try to loosen them.The men had already been fed and as he walked round his command Cato was pleased to see that they were alert and determined-looking. Their kit, which had become dusty and grimy on the march from Antioch, was clean again and helmets and shield bosses were polished and gleaming in the rays of the early morning sun.

'No need to worry, lads.' Cato smiled as he passed amongst them. 'This time there's a bloody great wall between you and those gutless archers. If the moment comes, then they'll not be so cocky when they face Roman iron.'

Some of the men grumbled their assent as they recalled the showers of arrows they had endured during the skirmish in the desert. This time they had the advantage, and the rebels were going to pay dearly.

'It is up to us,' Cato continued firmly,'to see to it that the gate is held. Keep a cool head, keep your shield up and make the enemy die hard! Second Illyrian!' Cato drew his sword and thrust it into the air. 'Second Illyrian!'

His men raised their weapons and repeated his cry, the name of the cohort echoing back off the buildings inside the citadel.The chant was taken up by the rest of the cohort posted round the wall. Then a new cry rose up inside as Macro's men bellowed out the name of their legion and used the flats of their swords to beat a furious rhythm against the metal trim of their shields.

'That's the spirit.' Cato gri

'They're on the move!' a voice cried out from the left tower, and the cheering quickly faded away as Cato forced himself to walk and not run to the steps leading up to the top of the tower. His men were crowded along the battlements overlooking the agora.

'Clear the way there!' he snapped at them. 'Quickly, damn you!'

They parted as he approached and Cato looked down towards the temple precinct just as a blaring of horns and the boom of drums echoed across the agora. Hundreds of men were crowded into the ram housing and had taken their places behind the wooden spars that had been slotted into place across the frame, passing under the long shaft of the ram. As the drums beat a steady pace the men heaved against the spars and the heavy structure began to rumble across the flagstones towards the citadel. Armoured men walking alongside pulled down the leather flaps while small boys ran up and down with jars of water, soaking the leather before it came in range of any fire arrows shot from the walls of the citadel. The rebels were preparing their own incendiaries, Cato noted, as his gaze turned to some activity on the edges of the streets that led from the agora. Columns of men pulling on ropes spilled out into the open. Behind them carts emerged, each one bearing a bolt-thrower or a catapult, light artillery pieces to be sure, but more than capable of shooting their missiles over the citadel's walls. Then came men carrying glowing embers in heavy iron braziers above which the air shimmered.